What Could Have Been: Child's Play
by mon-petit-pois
Summary: Because no one goes through what Ziva did and magically comes out "fine." How did Ziva meet these neighbors with whom she was going to have Thanksgiving?


"Steve…" she whispered, rolling over on the bed to face her husband. He was a particularly heavy sleeper— how else could he sleep through this noise? Frowning at his lack of response, she hissed his name again. "_Steve!"_

"Wha'?" he mumbled, not opening his eyes.

"They're at it again," Jessica whispered urgently. Steve noted the hint of fear in his wife's voice.

"I told you, sweetie, try to ignore it. They obviously don't have any common courtesy when it comes to neighbors," he sighed, rolling over so his back was facing her. She exhaled sharply in frustration as the noise from the neighboring apartment resumed.

Then, as quickly as it came, it stopped, and Steve sighed in relief.

"There. They've stopped. You're a screamer too, love, don't be a hypocrite," he grumbled, his voice muffled by his pillow.

She huffed in resignation and fell back onto her back. Just as her head hit the pillow, however, her ears perked up at the new sound emanating from next door, and she sat straight up again. The noise was quiet, very quiet, and unless she had really been listening she would not have noticed.

The barely audible sobs made her breath catch in her throat.

"Steve. Steve, _listen_," she ordered. "She's crying… I don't… I don't think they were…" Jessica's voice tapered off as she sat, stunned, convinced that these cries were proof of what she had suspected nearly all week. "Steve, is he hurting her?"

The man frowned, rolling over to face his wife. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Well we have to _do_ something!" she hissed at him. "I've heard her screams every night since she moved in. Every day I've seen that damn man enter her house. And now we hear her crying? They're not having_ sex,_ Steve. I told you before and I'll tell you again: he's_ hurting her_ over there."

Steve ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair, pondering the situation.

"Let's give it one more night. If it happens again tomorrow night, _then_ we'll think of some way to help her, okay, love?"

She huffed and lay back down in bed. It was another minute before the crying became absolutely inaudible, but the cries never left the forefront of her mind.

Needless to say, Jessica and her husband had trouble sleeping that night.

…

"I heard them again last night," Jessica said, beginning their morning conversation. "I didn't wake you up, but she screamed again last night. And I could hear her crying again."

Steve let out a deep breath and took a sip of his coffee. "So what do we do?"

"I was thinking… We could invite her over for dinner? Maybe… scope out the damage? Get some clues as to what is going on here."

"Look, Jess, I don't want to be the annoying nosey neighbors—" he began to protest, but she cut him off, holding her hand up to stop the flow of words.

"We're not the _annoying nosey neighbors,_ we're the _concerned neighbors._ If he really is hurting her… I don't want her to be victimized any more."

"We don't even know the woman! You act as if you've met. Have you even _talked _to her? Do you even know her _name?_" Steve pointed out.

Jessica put her hands on her hips in a manner that told her husband that the arguing was done. "That's what tonight is for: to scope out the issue, and make sure that we aren't simply… jumping to conclusions."

"I'm glad that you've at least begun to approach this more delicately," he commended.

"I just can't stand to hear such _pain._ Her screams are always so desperate, so tortured, so _alone._ And then the _sobbing…_" she trailed off, unable to continue her sentence. "Anyhow, if that bastard of a man has hurt her in any way, he's not going to know what's coming."

Jessica placed her coffee mug in the sink and kissed her husband goodbye, walking through the door ten minutes before her usual six in the morning time. What she found is her next door neighbor, locking the door behind her. Next to her stood the man that Jessica had spotted entering the woman's apartment every night.

Seizing the chance, she approached them. "Hi! I'm Jessica Blocker. My husband Steve and I live in the apartment next to yours," she introduced, extending her arm for them to shake. She kept a brilliant fake smile on her face, one that barely held when she saw the woman dressed in long sleeves unfitting for the weather and with visible bags under her eyes. She spotted the almost-gone bruise on the woman's collarbone and the possessive way the man stood next to her.

Anger boiled within her, but she hid it well.

"It is nice to meet you," the woman said, extending her arm to shake Jessica's hand. "I am Ziva David, and this is my partner, Tony DiNozzo," she introduced.

_Partners,_ Jessica thought, _So they __**are**__ dating. Domestic abuse… it is the only logical explanation. _

"It's nice to meet you, Ziva, Tony. Welcome to the complex, I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk before this." Jessica gestured for them to begin walking, and together they boarded the elevator.

"Thank you for your welcome. I appreciate it," Ziva said, somewhat stiffly, as the elevator doors closed them into the tiny box. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ziva slip her hand into Tony's.

"Steve and I would love to have you over for dinner some time. Are you free tonight? He makes _amazing_ beef stroganoff; I promise we'll make it worth your while," Jessica invited. The first thing Ziva did was look up at Tony, as if asking for permission.

Jessica didn't like it.

"Tony and I had plans…" Ziva trailed off, not looking away from the man's face.

_Yeah, plans where he beats the crap out of you and gets away with it,_ Jessica thought cynically.

"It's okay, we can do it some other time," Tony assured Ziva. Jessica inwardly frowned. This man did not seem like the violent type. She had to remind herself, however, to not judge a book by its cover. She was very good at jumping to conclusions— sometimes, when those conclusions contradicted one another, she knew she had a problem.

So, eager to delve deeper into this issue for a somewhat selfish reason, curiosity, she made a split second decision. "Tony could come too, if he likes." What better way to make sure her neighbor's life wasn't in danger than by surveying the _entire_ problem—her relationship with this Tony person?

"I'd love to. What do you say, Zee-VAH?" Tony asked as the doors slipped open and they exited the elevator. Jessica noticed that their hands immediately disjoined.

"That would be nice. Thank you," Ziva replied. "What time? I can always come and help prepare the meal—"

"There's no need for that. Seven o'clock tonight sound good?" Jessica proposed as they exited the complex.

Both Ziva and Tony nodded. "We should be off work by then. Sometimes we have to stay late, and if that's the case…"

"I can give you my phone number, just in case?" Jessica suggested. She quickly pulled out a pen and a scrap piece of paper and wrote her number, handing it to Ziva.

"See you tonight, then," Ziva said, as she headed towards a car that Jessica presumed to be either her own or Tony's.

"See you then," Jessica called, then lowered her voice, "And hopefully we can try to save you from this mess you're in."

…

"Why do you seem so nervous? They seem like nice people."

"I do not like the way strangers look at me. I feel like they can see straight through my defenses. I hate it," Ziva growled as they climbed the stairs to the third floor, which held both Ziva and the Blocker's apartments. She still despised elevators, and avoided them whenever she could. It was an unspoken agreement with Tony that they do so.

"Well, I don't think they can," Tony told her.

"It _feels_ like they can. Like my entire being is just there. They say people judge you within the first minute that they meet you. I do not worry about people I already know, but strangers? They only see me as I am now."

"What's wrong with that?" Tony asked as they arrived on her floor.

"I _hate_ how I am now," she murmured. Before Tony could think of an acceptable response, she had rung the doorbell to the Blocker's apartment. They were just barely on time— Gibbs had let them out late.

He found the time, just before the door opened to reveal Jessica Blocker, to say, "I don't." It brought a small smile to Ziva's face.

"Welcome! Come on in! You're right on time," her neighbor exclaimed.

Ziva and Tony crossed the threshold. "We were afraid of being late. Our boss did not let us out until twenty 'til seven."

"Well, I'm glad that you made it! Just leave your shoes there, it's no problem. Come on in, meet my husband."

Tony and Ziva were ushered further into the apartment, and they were soon met with a man they presumed to be Mr. Blocker. He was a rather young man, around thirty-five or so, of medium stature and build.

"Hi, you must be Ziva and Tony. I'm Steve Blocker, pleased to meet you," he introduced himself, pulling off an oven-mit and extending his hand in greeting. Both Ziva and Tony shook it.

"It is nice to meet you, as well. Thank you for having us over," Ziva expressed. Tony said something similar. Pleasantries continued to be exchanged as they took their seats at the well-furnished table. Steve brought over the food, which smelled delicious, and sat it down in the middle of the table.

"I hope you like beef stroganoff," he said, "the recipe's been in my family for generations."

"It's the best damn stroganoff _I've_ ever had," Jessica backed. "Go ahead, help yourself."

Ziva was nervous. She had only been home two weeks, and her eating habits still were abysmal at best. Most days she had almost no appetite. On the days that she did, she was almost always sent to the bathroom, and left with the bitter taste of stomach acid in her mouth.

That could _not_ happen today, not here. So, she took as little food as she could without seeming suspicious. Today was a no-appetite day, and the though of food was not inviting in the least.

Manners, however, dictated that she _would_ eat this food, dammit.

She tried a bite of the food and forced a fake smile on her face. "It's delicious," she complemented with false enthusiasm. Tony, however, came to her rescue, and began raving about how it was the _best damn stroganoff he'd ever had._ She was grateful.

"So, what do you two do?" Jessica asked, striking up a conversation.

"We work at NCIS," Ziva replied, purposefully not saying they were both _agents_ and omitting the fact that her position with NCIS was anything but secure— at that moment it was hanging in limbo and nearly nonexistent.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that company," Steve apologized. Tony, prepared for such an inquiry, quickly assured him that _no one knows_ and that they are a federal agency that investigates crimes involving the Navy.

"Ah, that's somewhat intimidating," Jessica teased. Tony didn't miss the discreet, unreadable look she shot her husband.

"No need to be intimidated. Unless you two have done something we should know about," he joked right back.

"So, how long have the two of you been together?" Steve inquired.

Ziva choked on the water she had been drinking.

"We're not together," Tony stated. The looks that Jessica and Steve had on their faces showed pure surprise. However, he detected a hint of suspicion in their gazes. Tony didn't like it.

"We are just co-workers," Ziva insisted.

"Forgive us. We simply assumed, with all the time you two spend together, and how you referred to yourself as 'partners' that you were in a romantic relationship."

Ziva frowned, disliking the conclusion that these two people had drawn up. Was she really _that_ dependent on Tony's comfort and aid, that two strangers assumed they were _together_?

_It would not be the first time,_ said a little voice in her head. It had a point.

"Nope. We're just friends. Really good friends," Tony assured the couple. "But how about you two? How long have you two been together?" He smoothly changed the subject.

"Dated for two years, married for three," Jessica proclaimed proudly, holding up her left hand to display her wedding band.

"How did you meet?" Tony asked, eager to keep the conversation away from himself and Ziva.

"At a party. How about you guys?"

"Through work."

"How long have you been partners?"

Ziva fidgeted. She didn't like this, she felt like she was being interrogated.

"About… how long has it been?" Tony asked, turning to Ziva, "Four years?"

Ziva nodded. "Yes, almost exactly."

Their conversation continued, getting to know each other even better as the evening went on. Tony, like always, tried his best to keep the conversation away from themselves, as he could see that it was making Ziva somewhat uncomfortable.

"You've barely eaten anything, Ziva. Do you not like it?" Jessica inquired.

"No, it is very good. I am not very hungry, that's all," Ziva assured her. She tried to forget the way that the other woman was looking at her— curiosity and concern filled her gaze.

Tony scrambled to change the subject. "That's quite the movie collection you've got going on," he observed, gesturing to the nearby living area and two entire bookcases filled with movies.

"Yeah, I'm a huge movie geek," Steve replied.

Ziva smirked. "Movie geek. I will have to remember that for the next time you call Tim a geek," she teased. "Tony is insufferable. He _always_ talks about movies. Name a movie, he has seen it, and can probably quote it word for word."

"She's exaggerating."

"Am I?" Ziva flirted casually, something reminiscent of their days _before_ this whole mess.

"You want to check it out?" Steve asked Tony, seemingly excited to have found a kindred spirit.

"You bet I do!" Tony exclaimed, standing up from his place at the table and walking across the room with Steve, leaving Ziva and Jessica alone.

"He seems like a nice guy," Jessica observed.

"Yes," Ziva agreed, "He is."

"If you don't mind me asking, if you're not in a relationship, then why does he come over every night?"

Ziva frowned. She did not like where this was heading. Tony's purpose for his regular visits to her apartment was something she didn't want to share with anyone. "We are friends."

"Really good friends, then, I assume," Jessica inferred. Ziva simply nodded, averting her gaze and focusing it on her nearly-full plate. "And he is good to you?"

"Of course he is good to me," Ziva replied, suspicion clouding her tone.

"Ziva… I know we've barely met, but you can trust me. If you need… help…" Jessica trailed off, diving into the deep end.

"What are you implying?" Ziva hissed, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"It's just that, well… Steve and I are concerned. For you."

"_Why?"_ Ziva questioned, her voice low and urgent. Was her façade really so shoddy? Did she really hide it that badly? Was Somalia so evident on her scarred body that even a _stranger_ could pick up on it?

"It is only a wall that separates our bedrooms, Ziva. And it's not a very thick one. We just want to make sure that you're okay. If he hurts you…"

Ziva was appalled. Her first reaction was to be angry. "You… you _eavesdropped_ on me?!" She stood up from her place at the table in fury. "You had no right! How dare you invade my privacy like that?!"

Tony immediately ran over to the table.

"What happened?" he asked Ziva urgently. He turned to Jessica, who stood up from her seat. "What did you _do?!"_

"I… We… I was just telling Ziva that we are concerned for her wellbeing. The dividing wall between our bedrooms is not very thick, and… At night we hear screaming, and crying…" Jessica didn't finish her sentence, seemingly unsure about how to proceed.

"Domestic violence is a crime. If you are hurting her in any way, it needs to stop," Steve said firmly, standing up to Tony.

Tony was shocked, and somewhat wounded. "You… you think that I… abuse her."

"It seems to be the only logical explanation!" Jessica cried.

Ziva's anger had melted away. She couldn't believe she hadn't considered the fact that the anguished cries that emitted from her during her sleep would carry over into the adjoining apartments.

"He does not hurt me. Tony has never hurt me," Ziva told the couple, standing her group with a firm resolve on her face.

"Ziva…" Tony frowned.

"Physically. He has never hurt me _physically._ And emotionally… no more than I hurt him, " she amended. "I can give you my word."

"But then… why do you scream? Why do you cry? Why are your sleeves long and why are there bruises on your collar?" Jessica asked, eager for an explanation. Tony walked over to Ziva and took her hand in support.

"I had a very… tumultuous summer. It is taking me a while to recover from that, physically and emotionally," Ziva answered vaguely, feeling as though she owed them an explanation for why their sleep was so rudely interrupted every night for the past week. Seeing the still confused looks on their faces, however, she knew it wasn't enough. "Nightmares. I have very bad nightmares. They are so bad that I usually end up, um… exclaiming outwardly. Tony comes over to try to keep them from getting too bad."

"I'm sorry, Ziva, we had no idea… You can't blame us for being concerned, can you? I mean… all the signs were there…" Jessica trailed off.

Ziva smiled kindly. "No. I am sorry I was so short with you. I… appreciate the concern. You had good intentions."

Steve extended a hand for Tony to shake. "Hey, man, I'm sorry for accusing you like that," he offered apologetically.

Tony shook it readily. "No hard feelings. You really just wanted the same thing that I do—for Ziva to be safe. I appreciate you trying to look out for a stranger."

"Hopefully, we don't have to be strangers anymore?" Jessica expressed hopefully.

Ziva gave her a gentle smile. "I would like that."

And thus, a potential disaster situation was avoided, and it ended up landing Ziva her first out-of-work friend in a long time.

Sometimes a stranger's piercing gaze and a neighbor's nosey tendencies are not such bad things after all.

A/N: Well, not sure how I feel about this one. It's my longest yet, topping off 10 pages in Microsoft word, and I'm _exhausted._ Writing from different limited points of view is tiring and so is getting into the character's heads, especially past midnight and when you've been writing for 2 straight hours. So hopefully it wasn't too OOC for your liking. I've been wanting to do a story like this for a long time, and now that I've finally gotten around to it, I'm not sure how much I like it. So please leave a review, even if it's just a quickie to let me know what you think!


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